Tightrope Lambada
by Virgins-and-Surgeons
Summary: A pivotal night between him and her, between him and him. The crickets called nonstop, almost as a warning. On this night, a meeting occurred that would destroy them both in the end. One dangerous dance between a Taicho and his Fukutaicho. Shinji/Aizen


**((AN: The crackbunnies have struck again, and since 'Perfect Is Faulty' got a positive reaction {two favorites and one awesome review!}, I thought that another smutty yaoi oneshot couldn't hurt. Especially since Hirako/Aizen struck me earlier and wouldn't go away.))**

_Oh, how they hated it. How they loathed it, knowing what it was and what it meant._

________________

He didn't mean for it to happen like this.

"Ah...stop movin' around, Sousuke..." The blond half growled, half sighed. His fists supported him over the figure beneath, short brunette hair plastered to his face by sweat. Long blond hair draped around the gentle-appearing brunette man's face, laying silkily across the uncomfortable futon underneath the duo.

"Nngh...you're the one moving around, Taicho..." The brunette groaned quietly, his discarded square-rimmed glasses laying halfway across the room, thrown in a fit of passion. Most likely broken, from the way they bounced off the wall of the small office. His taicho's lithe hands gripped his shoulder and waist, nails digging into flesh as his own hands clawed into the older man's bare back. Perspiration laid in a light sheen over both of their bodies, the only noise in the room panting and groans. Outside, crickets chirped now and then, nightingales sounding their songs seemingly to announce the happenings in the office of one Shinji Hirako, Taicho of the Fifth Division.

And yet it had.

The tempo of his thrusts wasn't technically fast yet, but it was more of a maddening sort of friction between the two men. Articles of their shihakusho, their shinigami uniforms, scattered the room in a helter skelter manner, Sousuke Aizen's hakama currently laying on the Taicho's desk. This was ignored. Everything was ignored. Everything but the man either above or below the other, everything but the other's perfect form. How it looked in the low light of the office, or the dim white light of the moon shining in through the window. A deep sigh; Shinji leaned down to bite at Aizen's shoulder, a tantalizing nip here and there. Sousuke himself let out a strangled moan at the ministrations; in turn moving a hand to grip Hirako's long blond hair and jerk his face up to meet the Fukutaicho's. Their lips brushed over one another's; whispers and pants and groans of passion ghosting over each other's faces. Hirako attempted to pull his hair free of Aizen's grip, but only succeeded in having his Fukutaicho wrap the long blond locks tightly around his hand, to keep him in control.

Maybe they could have avoided this potentially catastrophic joining.

"Yer' not givin' up, eh Sousuke?" Hirako breathed, slamming particularly forcefully in on this thrust. Aizen sucked in a gasp; his vision flickered black for a couple seconds, breath coming in short rasps from the ecstasy. From the pleasant pain. Biting back a moan, he instead pushed his Taicho's head forward to have their lips meet, taking advantage of Hirako's surprise at the tactic and diving in to dominate his partner's mouth, forcing the other's lips apart. Shinji groaned at the fiery sensations; such a slut for open-mouth. Fingers threaded through blond hair and grasped the Taicho's skull steadily, holding him in place to keep the sensual contact of their tongues alight. It was like electricity.

Getting too close to one another now.

How Aizen had allowed Hirako to be dominant, he himself did not know. Perhaps it was just a way to keep the illusion going, to keep them all thinking about how much of a benevolent and kind man he was.

Another gasp; a near scream as Shinji once again assaulted the one spot within Aizen that made him near mad with the sensations; the lust for more, for more of his Taicho in him, around him, everywhere. For that beautiful climax inching closer and closer. Agonizingly slow was it's pace; and yet the slow arrival only made them more fervent in the pursuit of it. It made them claw at each other's flesh, made them bite and suck and lick and attempt near anything just to arrive.

We knew it was deadly.

Aizen, in response, let go of Hirako's hair and quickly slipped his own middle and ring finger into his Taicho in one smooth movement, stabbing directly upon the same area Shinji so loved to attack within his Fukutaicho. The open-mouth shuddered, Hirako letting out a sharp bark-like moan as his Fukutaicho assaulted him in the same manner. Aizen continued to attack it, as Shinji adjusted himself and did the same to Aizen. The cacophony of groans and cries grew, Shinji slamming harder and faster to the feel of Aizen's nails clawing down his back in ecstasy. They were close; painfully so.

We didn't care.

Shinji felt it; he was dangerously close. In one swift movement, the hand supporting him snatched Aizen by the hair and dragged him up into a passionate, open-mouth kiss while the other hand moved from Aizen's waist to his member, giving the hardest of tugs.

We didn't know how it would end, after this was all over.

It was too much; Aizen let out a loud and climaxing scream of his Taicho's name, tightening around his Taicho and giving a final stab to a similar scream from Shinji. They stiffened; one leg of Aizen's locked around Shinji's waist and held him as far inside as he would go to the feeling of acid warmth eating at his body like lava. Shinji gritted his teeth as tightly as he dared; letting the waves of white-hot satisfaction wash over his sweating, slightly trembling form. He let out the slightest whisper of 'Sousuke', breathing out the word across the Fukutaicho's hot face and across his lips. They both remained like that for the longest time, Hirako laying his forehead down onto Aizen's shoulder and breathing in and out in pants. Aizen himself let the white haze settle over him, merely enjoying the moment of pure and total satisfaction. No malicious schemes, no overarching plans, no hollowfication or shinigami or even the nagging doubts he held of his accomplice's loyalties. All there was, all that existed was Shinji Hirako and Sousuke Aizen.

Neither of us gave a damn.

Slowly, the two untangled themselves from each other to collapse beside one another, catching their breath. Before long, Aizen was standing shakily and finding his clothes, as was Hirako. They couldn't lay around; what if someone were to walk in and see them? Bad enough the room stank like sex. The men both robed silently, the paperwork that had been the whole cause of everything in the room lay scattered across the room; an attempt at speaking over controlling the division had ended in sex and no work had been done. They would need to do it later.

Little did either man know, the wide eyes of Hiyori Sarugaki had been watching the entire scene, rising disgust and most of all, betrayal in her stomach. She felt rage at Shinji, at Aizen. Rage that Hirako had abandoned meeting her tonight to talk for loveless sex with his Fukutaicho. Hot tears threatened to spill over, blinked away as she turned and shunpoed away in the blink of an eye. The observation of that incident would always be between Hirako and Sarugaki, even years after they were turned to Vizards and cast from Seireitei. A constant bit of acid that ate away at them both, as Shinji could only suspect on what she had seen. It would never be the same between the two.

All we wanted was the release.

"I will see you in the morning, Hirako-Taicho." Aizen stated nonchalantly, as the Taicho sat down to do the paperwork. He gave a 'See ya, Sousuke.' as Aizen stepped out of the office, making his way towards his own room in the cool summer night.

**((AN: Another super smutty fic, one not involving rape this time! Reviews will be appreciated, and tell me that I don't fail at writing yaoi. They propel me to think up new fics too. Toodles!!))**


End file.
